Zinna’s fingers toyed restlessly with the edge of her sleeve, her gaze distant as she spoke—her voice low, like the words were reluctant to be born.
“I didn’t think Connor would ever trap me anywhere. Not him. He knows how much I fear being held against my will. It’s one of the few things I’ve never been quiet about. He knows that.”
She shook her head slowly, her mouth tight with hurt. “I never thought either of them—Connor or Kalil—would use their power on me. Not like that. But one argument—just one heated moment that might have passed with time—and Connor took away my choice. My will.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, troubled.
“That place… it’s supposed to be a neutral plane. A place where magic doesn’t function. A level field where no one has the upper hand. But his magic worked there.” She paused, her voice barely a whisper now. “Only his did. And the emptiness of it… even I could feel it. And I don’t have some deep connection to the magical planes like the rest of you. But even I knew that place felt wrong. Hollow. Like the air itself didn’t want to hold us.”
Her hands stilled, clasping together in her lap, but her knuckles were white.
“I want to believe it was just a mistake. A desperate choice. I want to find some way back to the friendship we used to have. But I’m not there yet.”
Zinna looked up at Nymera then, her expression open but clouded with sorrow. “I’m still too afraid of them both. Of what they can do—of what they already did. Maybe when Ba returns...”
Her voice broke slightly as she tried to steady it with a breath.
“But for now? I’m scared, Nymera. Scared that one wrong sentence, one moment of frustration, and I’ll be snatched away again. Taken like a thing, not a person. Just gone.”
She blinked rapidly and looked down again, hands trembling faintly.
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Zinna clasped her hands together tightly, her fingers twisting against one another as she took a steadying breath. Her voice, when it came, was calm but deliberate, each word chosen with care.
“Yes. He changed,” she said quietly. “He let doubt creep in. And instead of talking, instead of staying open… he let it fester. He doubted himself and his ability to protect me. He's always doubted my ability to protect myself. He doubted Wolfrum. He even doubted Ba.”
She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know if he still believes Wolfrum and Ba betrayed him… or if he finally accepts that she’s only gone for a little while. She told me she’s visited him—in dreams—but…” Zinna shook her head gently. “We don’t talk about Kalil.”
She gave a shrug that tried for nonchalance but didn’t quite reach it. “I didn't do anything other than tell him he was being an idiot. Because he was. He let his fear and uncertainty take control. Every old doubt he’s ever had about his worth, his strength, his place in all of this—they had full control of the reins. And he wouldn’t hear anything else.”
Zinna sighed, her gaze drifting briefly around them before she leaned in just a bit, voice dropping to a quieter register.
“Connor trapped us in Common Ground,” she murmured. “Said it was to make us talk. To fix things. But it didn’t fix anything. If anything, it shoved the wedge deeper. It made me see something I can’t unsee.”
She looked back at Nymera, voice low and steady now.
“Connor made me realize that I’m never really free—not so long as I’m under the dragons’ wings, so to speak. At any moment, he or Kalil or one of their men can find me. Take me. Pull me away from wherever I am, from whoever I’m with. And lock me away for however long they see fit.”
Her hands unclenched slowly, but the tension remained in her shoulders.
“That truth… it changed me.”
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Zinna looked down, her gaze tracing the folds of her skirt as her fingers fidgeted with the fabric. She shook her head again, slowly.
“There was anger. There was fire,” she murmured. “And I tried to let it out—tried to let it burn clean instead of letting it rot away inside me. But I wasn’t in a place where I could speak freely, and I… was taught a lesson. One Ba has tried to teach me for years.” She gave a tired, sardonic breath. “But Connor—he’s the one who finally made it stick. I don’t even know how long it took. It felt like weeks… but I was only gone an hour or two at most.”
Her eyes flicked to the air around them—the empty, silent space—and lingered there for a moment. Then she looked down again, drawing a deeper breath as though steadying something brittle inside her.
“The short of it, as far as I understand, is this: King Kalil built a house. A beautiful one, I’m sure. Built much of it for me. And yet, never once asked what I might want, or where I would want to live. Then he got offended when I didn’t accept it as the gift he meant it to be.”
Her voice softened as her fingers stilled on the fabric in her lap. “When I came back to the manor after spending time with my people—after finding Selena and Wolfrum gone, and everyone else tense and watchful—I didn’t want to stay. Not with the dragons. Not surrounded by soldiers. I didn’t want to be another problem someone had to protect...”
Her voice trailed off, and she looked down again. The silence stretched, then she spoke more quietly.
“There was chaos at Dragon Manor. All I wanted was peace. And Kalil… he got offended that I was scared.”
She gave a sharp shake of her head and inhaled, trying to settle her nerves again before turning her gaze back to Nymera.
“I'm still just me. I was never meant to be Queen of the Dragons. There are too many ancient rules in that world that clash with my own heritage. It was never going to work.”
She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug.
“I’ve been in contact with some of my people. I’m heading to a meeting with the bandoliers soon—once we find a safe enough place to gather.”
A trace of light returned to her voice then, and her smile, while small, was warmer.
“I’ve been thinking of putting together a festival of sorts. I know I can’t provide food, but… we have seamstresses, cobblers, carpenters—people who can fix just about anything. I’m hoping Zuigrii and the artisan’s guild will help too. The people could bring what needs mending, trade for better-fitting clothes, donate to those with nothing. Maybe I can even get Edgar to lend some of his undead to help with farm repairs and fences.”
She smiled to herself, a little brighter now, though her tone was still gentle. “I’ll talk it over with my people. Though, I need to speak with Vesta and Lady Katalina first about another thing.”
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Zinna smiles softly again and nods in agreement with Nymera’s thoughts on her own freedom. Then she gently places her other hand atop Nymera’s, returning the warm, reassuring squeeze with a touch of fondness.
“I’ve been… around. Spent some time in Seshtau, and went to see Sofira and the girls for a bit. Mostly I’ve been at the orphanage, trying to focus on helping however I can.” She paused, a small shrug lifting one shoulder. “Probably going to see Charlotte soon. She sent me a letter requesting my presence. Some things were said the last time we spoke, and… my relationship with that branch of the family has been damaged as well.”
She paused again and gave a small, self-aware shake of her head.
“Though I suppose it’s partially my fault that my people don’t have the best reputation around here. We’ve been helping, but mostly in the shadows. So now, too many think we’re nothing more than leeches—good for pretty clothes and dancing whores, and not much else.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes with restrained irritation before shaking her head again, this time as if to shake off the weight of it all.
Zinna took a deep breath, steadying herself, and when she spoke again, the words came like lines she’d practiced many times over.
“I do not belong in King Kalil’s world. His way of life and mine do not meld well enough to form the bond needed for a happy marriage. I crave the open road, and he requires well-guarded walls. He is stoic, keeps his emotions tightly locked away. I wear mine on my sleeves like jewels. I need open communication; he is wary of opening himself to anyone but Connor.
“I want to move with the flow of the wind and rivers. He needs structure—every moment of every day mapped out with purpose. And with so many powerful enemies, I can’t be that close to him without giving up who I am. Who I’m meant to be.”
She paused, a flicker of lingering hurt flashing in her eyes.
“I was hurt and shocked by his sudden decision to end our arrangement — especially when it was made without even a drop of my input. But after taking time to reflect, to focus on myself and the person I’ve become, I see now that… it’s probably for the best.”
Her voice softened, losing the formality for something more vulnerable.
“I hope we can remain allies. Even friends, maybe...”She opened her mouth as if to say something more, the words hovering just behind her lips—unspoken but heavy. But then, just as quickly, she closed it again. Instead, she turned back to Nymera and offered a quiet, reassuring smile.
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Zinna smiled softly again and gave a small nod.
“The gardens will be fine. I’ve recently remembered how much I do love the open air. The smells of plants and flowers drifting on the breeze…” She tilted her head, letting her gaze wander over the landscape with a wistful breath. “The few plants tough enough to survive this blight, anyway.”
She paused, taking in the subtle curves of the garden paths, the stubborn little blooms clinging to life where they could. It wasn’t lush, but it was alive. That mattered more than she expected it to.
Her eyes flicked back to Nymera. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and closed it again with a quiet exhale. Something unspoken flickered across her face—uncertainty, maybe, or restraint.
After another glance around the open space, she caught sight of a quiet seating area nestled beneath a canopy of twisted old trees. “There,” she said softly, inclining her head toward the bench.
The two walked in companionable silence, the rustle of leaves and the faint ringing of Zinna’s bells the only sound between them. When they reached the stone bench, Zinna sank into it slowly, smoothing out her blue and silver skirts with practiced fingers. Her bangles chimed as she adjusted her sleeves, though her motions were restless.
“I…” she began, then faltered. She glanced at Nymera, then down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know where to begin. I know I can’t speak entirely freely. I’ve learned to keep my most passionate opinions behind my teeth.”
She let out a soft, wry breath—equal parts bitterness and sorrow.
“But I don’t want to lose you, too,” she added, her voice quieter now. “Even though I know I will, sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time before the Queen Mother must be... locked away. For safety. For order. For appearances.”
She shook her head, not in disagreement, but in resignation.
“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t already been whisked off to some distant keep or enchanted grove,” she said, eyes flicking up with a faint, crooked smile. “Though I’d wager Ba and Edgar have a small army of invisible guardians trailing your every step.”
Her gaze shifted again—not to the flowers or the paths, but to the empty air around them. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched for a sign of the unseen.
She shook her head with a soft, almost bitter chuckle. “Freedom,” she sighed, the word dry on her tongue. “It’s a lovely idea, isn’t it? Shame it’s only ever been an illusion.”
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When Nymera approached, Zinna’s face lit just slightly—not with her usual full smile, but with something quieter, more familiar. She dipped into a curtsy with practiced ease, and when she rose, her smile came, soft and genuine, though the spark behind it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said with a breath of a laugh, the words lighter than they might have been for anyone else.
Her gaze flicked around the courtyard—at the students pretending not to watch, the glint of sunlight catching polished stone, the subtle hum of a place always listening. Then her eyes found Nymera’s again, and her posture relaxed a touch as she accepted the offered elbow.
“A walk through the grounds would be wonderful,” she said with quiet warmth, letting her hand settle comfortably at Nymera’s arm like it had many times before.
As they began down the path, the faint jingling of the bells in Zinna’s braid accompanied their steps like a soft memory. She took another look around—more habit than worry—and leaned in just slightly, her voice low and steady.
“We can speak freely here, correct?” she murmured, not quite worried, but careful. “I know there are always eyes and ears watching and listening. I’d rather not risk putting either of us in more danger… especially since I’m not nearly as graceful with my words as Ba or Edgar.”
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The vardo clattered up the east lane of the academy under the weight of late afternoon light. Its blue-painted sides were streaked with road dust, the red shutters slightly sun-faded, and the silver trim around its edges still managed to gleam. Brass bells jingled under the eaves, soft and rhythmic, marking its passage without apology.
Zinna guided the reins with one hand, the other resting on the worn seat beside her. As the courtyard came into view, she clicked her tongue, and the vardo slowed to a stop near the garden wall—technically not a place meant for wagons, but no one rushed out to tell her so. A few students looked up from their benches and scrolls. Some glanced toward her with vague curiosity; others didn’t bother, too engrossed in their studies.
Zinna rose and stepped down from the seat, her boots landing softly on the stone. Her skirt swayed with the motion—deep blue, with a silver-stitched hem that brushed her ankles. The red blouse she wore caught the sun at the shoulders, and her loose hair slipped forward until she pushed it back with a sigh. A single braid hung behind one ear, lined with soft little bells. Her bangles clinked lightly when she reached up to tug her shawl into place.
Three silver rings glinted on her fingers. She twisted one absently as she looked toward the tall doors. Zinna straightened, adjusted her vest, and walked across the courtyard with purpose. Not fast, not slow—just steady. She caught the scent of paper and herbs drifting from a windowsill, heard the scratch of a chalkboard inside somewhere. It was all quiet and thoughtful, which only made her own jangling nerves feel louder in contrast.
At the front entry, the assistant at the desk looked up with a start.
“Good afternoon. I’m here to speak with Nymera, if she's available.” Zinna said simply, her voice calm but not cold.
The assistant opened his mouth, paused, then nodded. “Right—yes. I’ll fetch her. If you’ll wait—”“I’ll wait here.”Zinna stepped aside and folded her arms, gazing across the courtyard instead of watching the door. The light hit the vardo just right then—blue and red, silver shining against the stone buildings—and for a moment, it looked like a memory she hadn’t quite left behind.
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“Wait—afore ye go,” Edgar called out, raising a hand.He shifted the weight of the satchel from his shoulder and let it drop with a solid thump at his feet. Crouching down, he opened the flap and began rummaging through the contents with a practiced hand, carefully pulling out bundles of neatly folded fabric, each tied with simple twine.“Zinna sent a few things… said they’d need these.”He rose and stepped forward, holding out the first bundle.“For the gentleman,” he said, handing it with a respectful nod to the older man, his tone steady but kind.Then another. “An’ for the lady,” he added, offering it to the older woman with the faintest smile softening his usually stern features.He reached back into the bag and drew out two smaller bundles, followed by two soft, hand-stitched toys—one a patchwork fox, the other a plump little hare, both lovingly made, well-worn but clean.He crouched again and turned toward the children, who lingered near the older woman, clinging to her skirts with wide, uncertain eyes. Edgar lowered himself to their level, one knee on the floor, and softened his voice as he held out the toys.“And these are for ye, wee ones,” he said, offering each toy with an open hand and a quiet, reassuring smile. “No’ much, but they’ve waited just for you.”The children hesitated, then slowly reached forward—one taking the fox, the other the hare—still quiet, but their fear visibly easing under Edgar’s calm presence.He gave them a nod, then stood again, lifting the last of the bundles into the older woman’s handsStraightening, Edgar slung the now-empty satchel over his shoulder again and cast a glance around the room, his expression somewhere between duty and quiet sympathy.“It’s no’ much,” he admitted, “but Her Highness insisted—said a warm bath an’ fresh clothes might go a long way after what they’ve been through.”He looked to each person in turn, his voice softening just a touch more as he addressed the older woman directly.“There’s herbs in each bundle, for tea… and a proper soak, if ye like. Calmin’ ones. Meant to ease the body and the mind, aye?”He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, turning back to Katalina. "If there’s anythin’ else we can do, just let us ken."
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